


refractions of my desire

by ElasticElla



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fade to Black, Magic, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23838919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: As a warrior, as a sworn Valkyrie, she finds the change odd.As a woman, Brunnhilde offers Frigga some mead.
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Frigga | Freyja (Marvel)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9
Collections: What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside), When Death Loves Flamingos, femslashficlets: tarot prompt challenge





	refractions of my desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/gifts).



> the rating flirts between teen and mature, but it is off-screen so *shrugs*

“He has stopped coming to war with me,” Frigga says, voicing the truth all have avoided. It was dressed up in fancy terms about governance and nine realms, of how Odin was considering the future. What does a Valkyrie do in times of peace? Brunnhilde isn’t interested in learning. It sounds ornamental, devoid of all thrill and glory. 

While Odin wasn't one to lead a charge, his absence was still heavy during the skirmish. More apparent perhaps because of Frigga’s presence, weaving illusion magics to confuse the enemy. (Her usual role was in the back, ready to heal any that were hurt.)

As a warrior, as a sworn Valkyrie, she finds the change odd. 

As a woman, Brunnhilde offers Frigga some mead. 

“I shouldn't,” the queen says, eyes drifting along the army. None are paying attention, not with drinks of their own and music and dancing – victory is to be celebrated. Frigga's daughter is at the center of it all, death’s maiden, retelling the battle loudly to an enraptured audience. 

“What do you want?” Brunnhilde asks, plain as she dare publicly with the crown. 

Frigga sighs, sounds so painfully normal in that moment. “…to retire. Come. Bring the mead.”

The Queen’s tent is akin to a miniature palace, magic sparkling in every corner. She sits at her vanity, carefully unpinning her curls. It seems a foolish get-up to fight in, then again, it certainly would have distracted her. 

Brunnhilde refills her mug, sitting on the edge of the tiny settee. 

“You could relax,” Frigga says, eyes meeting hers through the mirror. 

“Could I?” she echoes, draining the rest of her drink. (It isn’t for fortitude or boldness, but to ease a guilty conscience. He left her here, her mind echoes, as if she needed the reminder.)

Frigga stands up, hair loose as she approaches, glides over to her really. Brunnhilde wouldn’t put a spell past her at the motion, she plays far dirtier than anyone at court would suspect. 

Frigga’s hands clasp her shoulders, begin to rub, and Brunnhilde lets her head fall forwards. She digs into her shoulder blades, thumbs magical. “Back in my day,” she begins in a light tone, “warriors were suitably rewarded for defending Asgard. The dancing, the orgies, things have gotten rather tame lately.”

“And whose fault is that?” Brunnhilde teases. 

“Suppose I’ll have to make it up to you,” Frigga muses, hands flattening over her back. 

“S’fine,” she slurs, the comforting motions nudging her towards sleep. 

“Oh I insist,” she says, and Brunnhilde’s eyes open confused. 

Frigga is in front of her, desire snapping through her before her mind catches up to the soft hands still on her back. There’s a mischievous gleam in her eyes, and Frigga kneels to kiss her. Brunhilde only has the barest moment to appreciate her magical strength – that the illusion feels so real – before the real Frigga’s hands sweep down her sides, lips dancing upon her neck. 

She moans easy, breaking the kiss, hasn’t been touched in far too long. (Partly her fault, Brunnhilde knows, had refused to go to bed with the Queen before battle, hadn’t wanted her mind divided.)

“There, much better,” one of the Frigga’s murmurs in her ear, far too smug, fingers delving beneath her clothes. 

“I don’t know,” she drawls, licking her lips. “An orgy is more than three people.” 

Breathless laughter has her grinning, and a spell later, there are innumerable Friggas surrounding her, all reaching for her, kissing whatever skin is in their radius. 

Desire and amusement swamp her, Brunnhilde turning to the real Frigga with a wild grin. “You spoil me,” she declares, kissing her once more.


End file.
